


For the Next Ten Minutes

by lady_ragnell



Series: Prompt Reposts [27]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine is assigned Combeferre as her husband, and both of them have trouble getting used to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Next Ten Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Everyone is forced to get married and there are strong implications that there are consequences if they don’t procreate and that there are exams the woman has to take to make sure they’re trying. It’s not concentrated on, but as I said, the implications are there.
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr [here](http://theladyragnell.tumblr.com/post/112994949818/would-it-be-possible-for-you-to-switch-my-prompt). Title from "The Next Ten Minutes" from the musical The Last Five Years.

The apartment is very, very quiet.

Éponine thought she would appreciate the quiet, if she appreciated anything, but it's disconcerting instead. She's used to the comforting noises of Gavroche and Azelma and whatever other kids their parents have taken in temporarily for the stipend, not this pristine apartment on the nice side of town, allotted to them because her—because he's going to be a doctor.

He's not talking. He was quiet during the ceremony, and during the ride to their new home, and now he's silent, and it makes Éponine want to scream. All she knows about him is her new last name and that he's going to be a doctor, and they're expected to make a marriage out of that.

“You can have the bed tonight,” he finally says, when they've both unpacked their bags. Neither of them brought much, though he says he has a few bookshelves full of books coming home.

Éponine looks up from trying to figure out how to hook up their kitchen appliances. “You aren't—”

“I know you don't know me, but the government's … encouragement of procreation isn't going to make me force myself on you, ever.” He hesitates. “I know a doctor at the hospital who won't report if you're still ...”

“I'm not a virgin,” says Éponine. She doesn't see any use in dancing around the subject. “But we're incredibly compatible, that's why I got assigned so early. You know that. We're not going to make it a whole year without ...”

Combeferre winces and looks away. “We'll cross the bridge when we come to it. You take the bed.”

*

Éponine finds a job at a hardware store even though she doesn't really need it, just for something to do to get her out of the apartment. Combeferre works long hours at the hospital and meets up with his friends frequently. He invites her to come sometimes, but it's more politeness than anything else. She always tells him she's fine and takes one of his books off the shelves.

He likes science and history, and he takes notes in the margins of his books, which is how she starts feeling like she's getting to know him. There's a complicated system of cross-references that has her, some nights, with six books spread out in front of her, and she starts to get a picture, piecing it together between the books, of who he is.

“I got a job,” she tells him over dinner two weeks after she actually gets the job.

Combeferre smiles and focuses on her instead of the newspaper he was frowning at. “That's good. I've been meaning to ask if you wanted to sign up for classes or anything, or if you had alternate plans.”

“It's nothing glorious, just at the hardware store. But I've always liked them. People know what they want, and everything in there is useful.”

He looks at her like she's surprised him. “I'm glad. I would hate to think you're bored.”

“I've been reading your books. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all. What's mine is yours, after all.” The smile faces from his face while he says it, though, and the dinner table goes back to being silent.

*

The worst thing is, Éponine likes him. He's a lot better than any husband she was expecting when she was told on her eighteenth birthday that there was a match. He's kind, and Éponine doesn't underestimate that. She should be glad that her husband shows no interest in touching her, but she finds herself feeling stupidly rejected instead, so she takes on extra hours at the hardware store and just nods along when the owner winks and says she must be saving up for when she leaves work. She spends a lot of the extra pay on books about building and mechanics and reads them during the evenings when he's home.

She's been married for two months and made it through one check-up when she runs into Marius on the street, and the two of them stare at each other for a minute before she throws herself in her arms. “I'm sorry, I didn't know how to get in touch,” she says, and it's so comforting being around Marius again, the familiar smell of his detergent and how her head tucks against his neck. “I got married.”

“Me too.” When she pulls away he offers his hand so she can see the ring. “Three weeks ago. She's … Éponine, I got so lucky.” It hurts, seeing the dreamy look on his face. He's got everything the government says people should get from the marriages. “Her name is Cosette. I'll ask her, but I would love to have you for dinner some time. You and your husband, if you want.”

“He's working at the hospital. He's pretty busy.” She doesn't want to sit across the table from Marius and some woman he adores while she and Combeferre make awkward, too-polite conversation.

“Oh.” People make fun of Marius sometimes for being silly or oblivious, but Éponine never found him to be—even his ignoring her crush on him was ignoring, not missing it. “There's also … I get not everyone is as lucky as me. After you left, I guessed why, and I found a group that's fighting the government on the marriages, says there are hundreds of better ways to keep the population steady. You're welcome to come to a meeting some night.”

Éponine doesn't know if she wants to fight her marriage to Combeferre, but she doesn't want what she's got either. “Tell me where and when.”

“Seven at night, the day after tomorrow, there's a cafe called the Musain—”

“I've heard of it. And I think he's planning to be working, or with some friends, so I'll be there.” She checks her watch and swears. “And I've got to go to work, but it was really good to see you, Marius.”

Marius hugs her again, and she ignores his obvious worry as she squeezes him tight and then walks away.

*

Éponine walks into the meeting and the first person she sees is Combeferre. He's sitting with a few men she recognizes from pictures he has, and he looks up when the shop bell rings and then freezes, seeing her. Éponine clutches her coat tighter around her body and almost backs out, but he shakes his head and comes over to her.

She raises her chin, because if she can't leave she'll fight. “I'm here for the meeting. Marius invited me.”

“I didn't mean for you to find out like this.”

“You didn't mean for me to find out at all.” She looks away. “Look, you think I care? I know you don't want to be married. And I didn't know you would be here before I came in, so you can draw your own conclusions there.”

“I still owe you an apology.”

Éponine wants to demand one, but she knows that's stupid. She knows that this isn't anyone's fault, how trapped and unhappy he is and how that makes her unhappy in turn. “We're in the same situation here. If you want a divorce, I'll help you fight for one.”

“I just want you to understand that it's not you. It's because I didn't choose you for myself.”

“I get it, okay? Like I said, I'm here for the meeting.”

Combeferre frowns, and he looks so damn sad, and she wants to shout at him, because if he'd said this is what he does in the evenings before, she wouldn't have blamed him. Hell, she would have encouraged him. “We'll talk after.”

“Fine,” she says, and goes to take a corner table. There's a man at another one who gives her a sympathetic look and raises his glass to toast her, but Éponine doesn't want to go over and say hello, just sits there and waits for the meeting to start.

*

“I've been with them since long before I was assigned a wife,” Combeferre says on the walk home. “Some of us had parents in unhappy marriages, some of us are gay or bisexual and find the red tape required for that to be difficult, some of us have been in love with people we aren't compatible with … we all have a reason to be there.”

“I know it doesn't work. The marriages. As a system, it doesn't work. But for right now, we have to make it work, as much as we can. You could have told me.” Éponine crosses her arms. “We're not going to be able to change the world before we have to make the best of it as parents. You've got to know that.”

“I know it. But you didn't choose me, and I suppose … I wanted time for us to get to know each other a little, so we could at least pretend we chose each other.”

“Yeah, because you've been home so much to get to know me.”

“I was scared. And I apologize. I'll try harder. And you'll continue to come to meetings?”

“Fighting for our right to divorce on our date nights,” Éponine says, and has to laugh so she doesn't cry. “It's more interesting than the movies, anyway.”

“I'll try harder,” he says. “I know this won't happen immediately, though we are planning action, and soon. I'll try to do better with you in the meantime.”

“Okay. I think I can live with that. I think we can live with that.”

“I hope we can.” Combeferre offers her his hand, and it's cold enough that even with gloves on Éponine just wants to tuck her hands into her pockets or against her sides, but it's a gesture, and she doesn't want to reject it, so she reaches out and takes it, and it's quiet the rest of the walk home, but she doesn't mind so much now.


End file.
